The McHale Operation
by Sgt. Hakeswill
Summary: Major Bonacelli wants to do more to help the Allied war effort. Can Colonel Hogan help him to persuade Lt. Commander Quinton McHale to assist him in achieving that goal?
1. The Idea

**Author's Note:**

_For those who might not remember, the 4th season of McHale's Navy took place in Italy, based in the fictional town of Voltafiore. Similarly, two episodes of Hogan's Heroes featured Italian Major Bonacelli, from the equally fictional town of Capizio. So, I thought to myself, why not do a McHale's Navy/Hogan's Heroes crossover? _

_This story is based on two episodes each from the two shows: "The Pizza Parlor" and "The Return of Major Bonacelli" from Hogan's Heroes, and "Guiseppe McHale" and "The Return of Guiseppe" from McHale's Navy. _

_Note that Guiseppe is McHale's maternal cousin and his surname is established as Maggiore on "The Return of Guiseppe"._

_This story takes place at some indeterminate time between "The Pizza Parlor" and "The Return of Major Bonacelli"._

_It's just a bit of fluff, so don't expect precise historical accuracy. I've purposely left the dates vague because I'd probably not have been able to write the story at all had I paid strict attention to the chronology of what happened during the Italian campaign. Hope you enjoy it, anyway._

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Major Aldo Bonacelli sighed as he stood at his office window looking out over the compound filled with Allied prisoners. Small groups of men in worn American and British uniforms clustered in the few shaded areas on the bare expanse of ground, trying to avoid the hot Italian sun, while others played a half-hearted game of volleyball.

Bonacelli had been the comandante of Capizio's POW camp for less than a year, but took no satisfaction from his job. Indeed,when he'd been sent to Germany the month before to be tutored in prison camp management at Stalag 13, he'd nearly succeeded in defecting to Switzerland.

He'd reluctantly changed his plans to desert after talking with Colonel Hogan, the senior prisoner of war at Stalag 13. Hogan's extensive operation, engaging in sabotage and the rescue of downed fliers had impressed the Italian major greatly. The American had been able to persuade him that spying and passing on information to the Allies would get the hated Germans out of Italy quicker, making it a better option than simply running away.

But, now, he wasn't satisfied with merely gathering intelligence and passing on the information. As he watched the prisoners, he thought of how the war in Italy could be shortened if these men could rejoin their own forces to resume fighting.

Sighing loudly, he knew there wasn't anything he could do to help the men already in his custody. He couldn't let them escape, nor could he help them to escape. His prime mission was to provide intelligence to the Allies and to do that, he had to retain his post as camp comandante at all costs. All other concerns, however worthy, had to take a back seat to that goal.

A moment later, the Italian major returned to his desk to attend to his daily paperwork. Within moments, he managed to push his unease to the back of his mind, at least for the time being.

About twenty minutes later, his aide stuck his head through the open doorway. "Excuse me, Comandante, but Guiseppe Maggiore would like to see you." After a pause, he added, "He has delivered this week's order of fish for the officers' mess."

"Send him in, Vasta," Bonacelli said, glad for the interruption. "Please serve us the usual refreshments."

"At once, Comandante."

"Buon giorno, Aldo!" Guiseppe Maggiore greeted, with a big smile on his face as he entered the room a moment later. Maggiore was a large, gregarious man who'd known Bonacelli since childhood, both having grown up together in San Lucca.

"Sit down, Guiseppe," Bonacelli invited, indicating a comfortable chair. "How are Teresa and the children? Well, I hope."

"Very well," Guiseppe replied. "Teresa sends her best wishes and Pietro and Angelina are growing like weeds!"

The two men continued to talk about mundane matters until the aide had served the refreshments and left the office, closing the door behind him.

Bonacelli paused for a long moment to listen carefully to make sure that Vasta was not lurking close by on the other side of the door. Once he was satisfied they would not be overheard, he asked, "So, do you have any new intelligence for me today, Guiseppe?"

Lowering his normally loud voice, Guiseppe said, "I was fishing north of Capizio, when I saw a long German tank column heading south. I wasn't able to get a very close look, but they also had several mounted 88 flak guns, too."

"When was this?" Bonacelli asked.

"Just before I came to deliver the fish to you." Pausing to take a sip of the espresso, he added, "By the time I was able to come ashore to get a closer look, they'd gone by, out of sight."

"That should be enough information to send to London," Bonacelli mused, getting up to go look out the window again. "You can tell some of the others to keep their eyes open for more information about it."

His voice drifted off as he watched the prisoners out in the courtyard once more, as frustrated as before. He only half-heard when Guiseppe began talking again.

"What is it, Aldo?" Guiseppe asked in concern. "I don't think you've heard a word I've said."

"I'm sorry," the major apologized. "Come, take a look out this window."

Curious, the larger man did as he was bid.

"What do you see out there?" Bonacelli asked.

"Men. Allied prisoners." Guiseppe replied. "Or am I supposed to notice something else?"

"Before you came this morning, I was looking out and it occurred to me just how many prisoners I have, men I can barely afford to feed. These are men who should be back behind their own lines, fighting to free Italy from the filthy Germans."

Sighing, he continued, "It is not enough that I pass on intelligence to the Allies. I wish I could be doing something to help those men out there to get back to their own forces."

"You cannot do that, Aldo," Guiseppe reminded him. "That is not what you were assigned to do. Me and my friends, we sneak around and gather the information you need and you report it to London. That is all they expect of us."

"We could at least try to help other downed fliers before the Germans can capture them; before they get to me." Returning to his desk, the major concluded, "But I wouldn't even know how to go about doing that without being caught by the Germans and risking our entire operation."

Guiseppe paced back and forth for a few moments pondering the matter. Suddenly, he stopped, exclaiming, "That's it! I think I have a way we can do it!"

"Tell me," Bonacelli demanded as he leaned closer, eager to hear the idea.

"My _cugino_, Quinton McHale, can help us get the men to safety!"

"McHale?" Bonacelli repeated, mystified. "That's not an Italian name."

"He's my American cousin," Guiseppe explained. "His mother was my father's sister. She married an American."

"I see," Bonacelli said, waiting for the other man to explain further.

"He is a commander of one of those American PT boats," Guiseppe elaborated. "His base is down in Voltafiore."

"That's only about ten miles or so south of San Lucca," Bonacelli said. "Do you think he would help us."

"I don't see why not," the other man said. "He's always up to one scheme or the other to get the things he wants done."

"It is worth a try," Bonacelli agreed. "I will tell London about our idea when I contact them tonight and see what they think of it."

"Good idea," Guiseppe agreed. "Do you think I should ask Quinton about it?"

"Wait until I talk to London, first," Bonacelli said. "We'll need their approval before we do anything. But I think I can get it - I know of a similar operation in Germany that they coordinate."

"When will you know?"

"Probably in a few days," Bonacelli guessed. "I should know by the time you deliver next week's fish order."

"I'll see you then, Aldo," Guiseppe said, standing to leave.


	2. Makling Plans

Later that night, Major Bonacelli carefully pushed the wardrobe cabinet in his quarters away from the wall. Underneath were a couple of loose boards, under which he'd hidden his short wave radio.

He quickly set up the radio, then noiselessly crept to the door to listen for a few moments to make sure no one was lurking outside. After a few moments, he was satisfied he was alone and returned to the set.

"Pizzeria to Mama Bear," Bonacelli said softly into the microphone. "Pizzeria to Mama Bear. Come in, please."

"This is Mama Bear. Go ahead, Pizzeria."

"I have tonight's report," he said, then gave the details of what Guiseppe Maggiore had told him earlier that day.

"Acknowledged, Pizzeria, " the female radio perator in London replied. "Is there anything else."

"Yes, Mama Bear," he said. "One of my underground informants and I have an idea on how to expand our operation."

"Hold one moment, Pizzeria," she said. "Colonel Wembley will need to hear this."

After a long pause, Mama Bear said, "Continue, Pizzeria."

Bonacelli quickly told them an abbreviated version of the idea to help downed Allied fliers to get back to their own lines, including the proposed inclusion of Quinton McHale in their operation.

"How did you come to choose this Commander McHale?" Wembley asked. "And have you spoken of this idea with him yet?"

"It is as I said," Bonacelli said patiently. "McHale is the cugino - cousin - of one of my men, whose mother married an American." Sighing, he continued, "We have not talked to Commander McHale yet. I wanted to speak to you first for your approval before proceeding."

"Ah, I understand now," Wembley said affably. "Please give us a day or so to make a decision. I'll need to discuss it with the group in a staff meeting and also need to research the feasibility of the idea."

"That's all I ask," the major said. "I will eagerly await your reply. Pizzeria out."

_/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/_

Two days later, it was Colonel Wembley himself who answered the radio when Bonacelli called Mama Bear.

"I have good news for you, Pizzeria," Colonel Wembley informed Bonacelli. "Your idea has been accepted and will be implemented in the near future."

"Wonderful!" Bonacelli said.

"We did a background check on Lt. Commander McHale, who speaks fluent Italian, which makes him an excellent candidate for the job. And it seems he has a penchant for accomplishing his goals using unorthodox methods." Wembley chuckled briefly, then continued,"Rather much like Papa Bear, as it turns out."

"It is too bad they cannot meet," the Italian major said. "They would probably enjoy swapping war stories."

"Oh, but they will!" Wembley told him, with a jovial chuckle. "We've chosen Papa Bear to go down to Voltafiore to officially present the idea to Commander McHale. He, of course, will have the option to accept or refuse the mission, but he must give his decision to an official representative of his own nationality. If Commander McHale accepts the mission, Papa Bear will remain for a short time in an advisory role."

"When will Papa Bear come to Italy?" Bonacelli asked.

"As soon as possible," Wembley replied. "We'll leave it up to the two of you to work out the specific details, but keep us apprised of whatever plans you make."

"Of course," Bonacelli agreed.

"Oh, one more thing," Wembley said. "A Colonel Harrigan is in charge of the military government in Commander McHale's area so, pending McHale's acceptance of the mission, we will be informing Colonel Harrigan of what is going on, but he will play no active role in the operation. McHale will coordinate his actions with you and report to us. We have also decided not to inform his immediate commanding officer, a Captain Binghamton, as his background check revealed him to be an unstable man, who also has an irrational hatred of Lt. Commander McHale. This makes him a security risk."

"Understood," Bonacelli said. "Pizzeria out."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Colonel Robert Hogan was puttering around down in the tunnels after evening roll call. He'd been advised by London of his role in the proposed McHale operation and that Major Bonacelli would soon be contacting him to work out the details.

Hogan was nursing a cup of ersatz coffee, while Newkirk and LeBeau were in the uniform room doing some routine repairs on the German uniforms they'd used in their last mission. Carter was conducting an inventory of supplies in his lab, while Kinch was monitoring the radio.

He looked in on all the men in turn and just as he was about to give up for the night and go back upstairs, Kinch called out to him.

"I've got Major Bonacelli on the radio, sir."

"It's about time," Hogan grumbled as he took the headphones from the sergeant.

"Papa Bear here."

"Good evening, Colonel," Bonacelli said. "Pardon the lateness of the hour, but I had to wait until I was sure I was alone for the night."

"Understood," Hogan replied.

"I trust that London gave you the basics of this mission and your part in it?"

"They did," Hogan affirmed. "You want to expand your role to helping downed fliers back to our lines before they can be captured and sent to your camp. And one of your men has proposed that his American cousin, who is a naval officer stationed to the south of you, be the one who takes these fliers to safety. My role is to present the mission to him and to act as short-term advisor if he accepts. Correct?"

"That's right," the Italian major replied. "One thing, though. How do you propose to get down here and be able to stay long enough without being missed at Stalag 13?"

"Give me a moment," Hogan told him, getting up from the radio to pace for a few moments, as Kinch idly watched.

Within moments, he snapped his fingers in inspiration and returned to the radio.

"I want you to contact Klink and invite him down to Capizio to spend a week or so visiting your camp," the American said. "Tell him you want to pay him back for the hospitality he showed you when you were here, or some similar nonsense that will appeal to his ego. I will hide in the luggage carrier on top of his staff car for the ride to Capizio. I've done it twice before when I was needed in Paris for certain missions."

"I'd rather fall on my own sword than spend that much time with that insufferable man," Bonacelli complained. "He will probably try to get me to eat German cooking again. It took my stomach a week to recover from the sauerbraten he forced on me when I was at Stalag 13." After a short pause, he quickly added, "But I will do it."

Hogan laughed in understanding, then said, "Is there anything else I need to know?"

"Do you speak Italian?" Bonacelli asked. "I'll have to stay in Capizio to distract Klink, so my man will be taking you to Voltafiore to meet with his cousin. The problem is that he does not speak English."

"No, I don't," Hogan said. "But I have an Italian-American man in my barracks that may speak the language."

"Ah, yes, the one who gave me his father's recipe for pizza?"

"That's the one," Hogan confirmed. "Give me a minute to ask him."

Motioning to Kinch, he said, "Go ask Garlotti if he speaks Italian. If he does, bring him back down here."

Kinch returned within moments. "Sorry, sir. He only knows a few words of Italian."

At that moment LeBeau came out from the sewing room. "You need someone who speaks Italian? I have an Italian grandmother and I've been speaking it since I was a boy."

"Excellent," Hogan said, motioning at him to stay put.

Returning to the radio, he told Bonacelli, "I have a man who speaks Italian."

"Bring him along, then, so you will be able to communicate with Guiseppe," the major said. "You and your man will be posing as Italian fishermen, so bring the appropriate clothing. I will call Klink tomorrow morning to extend the invitation, and will contact you tomorrow evening with any further details."

"Good luck with Klink," Hogan said, chuckling. "Papa Bear out."


	3. On the Way

Three days later, Sgt. James Kinchloe stood in Colonel Hogan's office as he watched him gather up the things he would be taking with him to Italy.

"Don't worry about anything back here while you're in Capizio," Kinch told Hogan, who was about ready to go. "I'll keep things under control while you're gone. We'll do the same things we did when you went to Paris to keep the Germans from noticing that you and LeBeau are gone. We have those two men down in the tunnel waiting to go out to meet the sub, so we can keep them here until you get back. They can pretend to be you and LeBeau and be too 'sick' in bed to stand for roll call."

"Sounds good," Hogan replied. "I'm not worried. I know you'll get the job done and keep the Germans off balance."

"That's the plan," Kinch affirmed.

"I'd better get LeBeau and get over to Klink's staff car," Hogan said as he opened the door to the main room. "I saw Schultz out there bringing out Klink's suitcases and we need to get up on the roof into the luggage carrier before Ol' Blood and Guts sees us."

"Good idea."

Minutes later, Hogan and LeBeau had crossed the compound, along with several other men, without attracting the notice of any guards. The men created a small diversion, so that the two men could get into the luggage carrier and get under the tarp unnoticed.

At that moment, Sgt. Schultz came out of the Kommandantur, loaded down with Klink's luggage. He was just in time to see them climb aboard.

Dropping the suitcases, he hurried over to the staff car. "Please do not tell me you are doing this again!" Schultz pleaded. "I am old. I have a bad heart. I do not think I can take going through this kind of monkey business yet again."

"Relax, Schultz," Hogan said casually. "Everything turned out OK before, right? Have some faith in us. Everything will be all right again, I promise."

"Yes," LeBeau put in. "If you keep quiet and mind your own business, I promise to make strudel for you every week for a month when we get back."

"All right," the older man conceded wearily. "I will see nothing, as usual. It is not as if anything I say will make you change your minds."

The Oberfeldwebel put the rest of Klink's suitcases into the luggage rack around the two men, then pulled the tarp over them just before Klink appeared, ready to leave.

Soon, they were off and the two men on top of the staff car settled themselves as best they could for the long journey, which would be over 700 miles.

Hogan knew that Schultz would make sufficient rest stops along the way, as he'd done when they'd gone to Paris, and would stop for the night at some point.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

That same day, Guiseppe Maggiore made his weekly fish delivery to the prisoner of war camp in Capizio. As usual, he was ushered into Major Bonacelli's office after making the delivery.

As soon as they were alone with their refreshments, the major got down to business.

"I have good news!" Bonacelli announced. "London approved our plans, including your idea to include your cousin."

"Wonderful!," the other man exclaimed. "When do we begin? I should go right away to tell Quinton about it."

"London wants an American to officially offer him the mission," Bonacelli explained. "In fact, he is on his way now from Germany."

"Germany?" Guiseppe was puzzled. "Would it not be easier for him to come straight from London? How will he get here through German held territory?"

"It's complicated," the major said, laughing. "I'd best let him tell you about his situation himself once he gets here." Pausing to take a sip of his drink, he continued, "Do you remember not long ago when I went to Germany to take a course in the German way of prison camp management at Stalag 13?"

"How could I forget?" Guiseppe said. "You did not stop complaining about the bad food for weeks after you got back!"

"Well, I invited the Kommandant for a visit and this American, along with another man who speaks Italian, are hitching a ride with him," Bonacelli explained. "I will keep Kommandant Klink busy here inspecting the camp, while you take these two men down to Voltafiore to speak to your cugino. They are on the way now and probably should be here tomorrow morning."

"He is working with you against his own people?" Guiseppe asked, incredulous.

"No, he knows nothing," the major told him. "The men stowed away on top of his car in the luggage rack under a tarp."

"I can't believe anyone could be so stupid as to not notice two men on top of his car."

"Believe me, Colonel Klink IS that stupid." Bonacelli chuckled as he remembered just how clueless Wilhelm Klink was. "When I was at Stalag 13, there was one guard who let a prisoner hold his gun while he played ball. When I pointed out to Klink that we don't let prisoners have guns here, the guard told us it was safe because the gun was not loaded! Klink didn't seem a bit surprised by this state of affairs."

Guiseppe laughed, then said, "But it is a good thing for us that he is stupid, no?"

"That is true," Bonacelli agreed. Changing the subject, he continued,"When they get here, I want you to take the two men with you right away to San Lucca. They will be posing as fisherman, so if you are stopped on the way to San Lucca or to Voltafiore, you will say they are part of your crew. You should have them stay with you at your home, until they are ready to go back with Klink to Germany."

"I understand," the other man said. "My Teresa will know to keep her mouth shut and the children will believe they are new members of my crew."

"I will give you some money to cover the expenses of feeding them," Bonacelli promised. "And the sooner you can get them down to Voltafiore to see your cousin, the better. Even though he is stupid, I will not be able to hold Klink here in Capizio indefinitely. Some vino and some pretty signorinas should give you enough time to get the job done, however. And I, at least, will be giving him food much better than the swill he fed me!"

"When should I come back here to get them?" the other man asked.

"Come back first thing tomorrow morning," the major told him. "They will stop to spend the night somewhere on the way, but it shouldn't take them all that long to get here once they get started again." A moment later, he added, "Bring some other kind of fish than what you usually bring and tell anyone who might ask that I asked you to bring it especially for me and my guest. Buy it from a fish market if you have to, but just have it when you come."

"I will have it," Guiseppe told him, rising to leave. "I will see you tomorrow, then."


	4. Hogan's Arrival

The next morning, Guiseppe Maggiore returned to the prison camp to deliver the special order of fish. After making the delivery, he came to Bonacelli's office for refreshments, just as if it was his normal weekly delivery.

"Colonel Klink called just a little while ago to let me know that he should arrive within the hour," Bonacelli told Guiseppe, as soon as the door had closed behind them. "What I want you to do when they get here is to get up to leave, but go outside and linger in a doorway, close to where I showed you where they will park. As soon as Vasta lets me know they're at the main gate, I'll go out to meet them. I'll divert Klink's attention while you hurry the men to where you've parked the truck by the kitchen. Once you have them inside the truck, leave by the service entrance as usual."

"Everything is in place," Guiseppe assured him. "I even have the cook in the kitchen bribed to look the other way. I always bring a little something for him when I make my fish deliveries, so he is happy to see things my way."

The men chatted about mundane matters for the next twenty minutes or so, as they waited for Klink and his stowaways to arrive.

Finally, Vasta tapped at the door, then came in to announce, "Colonel Klink's staff car just came in through the main gate."

"Thank you, Vasta," Bonacelli said, "I will go out to meet him."

Guiseppe rose from his seat as well. "I must be going, then, Aldo. I will see you soon."

The two men went out the front door of the building together. Guiseppe turned to the left and quickly made his way to the designated doorway to wait, just around the corner from where the German staff car would park. He would wait until he heard Bonacelli escort Klink inside the building.

Soon, he heard a slight squealing sound as the German car came to a halt.

"Welcome, Colonel Klink, to Capizio," Major Bonacelli greeted, as soon as Sgt Schultz had opened the car door for his commanding officer. "Please, come into my office, where my aide already has refreshments waiting. He will show you and your sergeant to your quarters later."

"Thank you, Major Bonacelli," Klink replied. "It has been a long journey and I could use something to drink." Before following the Italian major inside, he spared a quick glance at the camp compound and the barracks behind them, which were separated from the administrative buildings by a tall barbed wire fence. He was satisfied to see that the Italian prison camp did not appear to be as large as Stalag 13.

No sooner had the two men disappeared inside the building, than Guiseppe peered around the corner of the building. Two men, one tall and one short, threw the tarp back from the top of the car and carefully climbed down, seemingly oblivious to the German sergeant, who had remained by the car after the two officers had gone inside. The German had his back to Guiseppe, so he motioned urgently to the two men to follow him without delay.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Hogan and LeBeau wearily climbed down from their cramped hiding place after they heard Bonacelli invite Klink inside, then heard the heavy door close behind them.

He looked where Bonacelli told him his contact would be waiting and, sure enough, there was a heavy-set Italian man in a black turtleneck with brown belted trousers and a black watch cap, beckoning at them to hurry.

Schultz turned in time to see th exchange. Looking at Hogan, he said, "I see nothing! Shoo, shoo, go along with him now before someone ELSE sees you! I cannot help you if that happens!"

"Don't worry, Schultz," Hogan assured him. "We'll be back and under the tarp by the time Ol' Blood and Guts is ready to go back to Stalag 13. Try to relax and have a good time while you're here. At least you'll be eating well for a change!"

And, with that, the two prisoners scuttled quickly to where the man was impatiently waiting. They were now dressed similarly to him, which would help them not to be immediately noticed.

The Italian motioned for them to keep quiet and follow him.

Hogan and LeBeau obeyed wordlesslly, and the group slipped quietly down an alley. At the other end, a small delivery van with a fish logo painted on the side stood waiting.

At the back of the van Guiseppe unlocked the doors, then motioned the men inside. In a low volce he said, "There are some canvas sails in there. Cover yourselves with them until we get out of camp. We aren't going far, so you won't be in there long."

LeBeau nodded in understanding, then translated into English. Hogan gave the Italian a sign of acknowledgment, before they clambered inside to hide under the sails.

The two prisoners kept still and quiet as Guiseppe drove off, then slowed to a halt at the back gate. Fortunately, there was no search of the vehicle and they were soon waved through the gate and on their way.

Within a few miles, the truck stopped again. "It is all right," Guiseppe told them as he opened the doors in back. "You can come out now."

Hogan and LeBeau found themselves in another alley, close to the door of what Hogan's nose told him was a fish market.

"You two wait here while I return the keys to my friend, Bruno. I'll be right back, then we'll be on the way to my boat to go to San Lucca."

He returned a moment later, ready to move. "Let's get to the boat, then we'll talk a bit on the way to San Lucca. We're not far from the harbor."

Ten minutes later, the group was aboard a small fishing boat heading south. Once they were under way, Guiseppe introduced himself. "I am Guiseppe Maggiore, cugino of the man you are to meet, Quinton McHale."

"I am Louis LeBeau," the Frenchman replied. "And this is Colonel Robert Hogan who, unfortunately, doesn't speak a word of Italian."

"Pleased to meet you both!" Guiseppe said, smiling broadly at both men in turn. "It is good you both have dark hair, as it will help you blend in better and avoid attracting the attention of Germans."

"Yes, and our clothes," LeBeau agreed, laughing, then quickly translated for Hogan.

Hogan gave a brief smile to their host, but then returned to business, impatient to get on with it. Turning his attention to LeBeau, he said, "Ask him what the plan is and when we'll meet McHale."

Guiseppe smiled indulgently when LeBeau translated Hogan's questions. These Americans, always in such a hurry!

"Right now, we are going to my home in San Lucca, where you will be staying," he explained. "My Teresa will have a good, hot meal waiting when we get there."

LeBeau quickly translated, but when Hogan opened his mouth to talk, the Italian held up one hand to indicate he wasn't finished yet.

"We will take the boat down to Voltafiore tomorrow," he continued. "The reason we go tomorrow and not today is that I need to keep to my usual fishing routine and Tuesday is the day I head south to do my fishing."

"We understand," Hogan said, bowing to the inevitable, after LeBeau quickly translated. "LeBeau, here, is an excellent chef, but I'm guessing your wife is even better."

The Frenchman gave Hogan a look of mock indignation before translating, but dutifully repeated the words in Italian.

The trip south to San Lucca, was uneventful, without them encountering any German patrols, either in boats or on the shore. Guiseppe had instructed them on what to do if a German patrol boat did approach them but, fortunately, the precautions turned out not to be necessary.

Hogan relaxed somewhat, but remained watchful while trying to enjoy the boat ride. The three men chatted amiably during the trip, with Guiseppe telling them how him and Bonacelli had come up with the idea.

The trip to San Lucca was shorter than the two prisoners had expected. As they tied up at the pier, Guiseppe told them, "Relax, you are behind Allied lines now."

It was a short walk from the pier to the Maggiore home, where Signora Maggiore had a hot meal waiting.

"Welcome to our home gentlemen," Teresa Maggiore said in English. "I know you must be hungry."

"Oh, I'm so glad you speak English," Hogan told her with a genuine smile. "Your husband and LeBeau have been talking in Italian all the way down the coast and I've felt a bit left out."

"Ah, my Guiseppe is quite the talker," she replied, smiling back. "He never meets a stranger!" Turning to include LeBeau, she continued, "Let us eat and relax for now, before the children get home from school. You can get a good night's sleep here before going down to Voltafiore tomorrow."

"Thanks, we'd be delighted," Hogan said, lured by the inviting aroma of the food. "I think a good night's sleep is just what the doctor ordered."


End file.
